


I'll Carry You

by furiedheart



Category: Chris Hemsworth - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, hiddlesworth - Fandom
Genre: Chris does not ask Tom's permission every time they have sex, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Tom makes a new friend, a sequel to Loaded, and a possible Chris Evans boob grab, and the other left to wonder, jealous chris is jealous, more from the boys in college, someone gets skittish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furiedheart/pseuds/furiedheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys go on their date and Chris meets Tom's attractive new study partner, Chris Evans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Carry You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Ok, so this is a sequel to [Loaded](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2034351). I suggest you check that one out before you read this one. It'll make more sense. There's some jealousy, some confusion, some flirting, and some partying. And angst. Can't forget that :)
> 
> Beta'd by the most wonderful person ever, duskyhuedladysatan <3

The movie, from what Tom could tell between glances at Chris beside him, was pretty stupid. To his great shame, there was that one part where one of the evil transformers sprang from out of nowhere into the scene and Tom jumped in his seat. Chris chuckled and reached for his hand, and Tom, face flaming, let him take it, cradled against the flat plane of Chris's belly.

After Chris's hasty departure following their frenzied fucking, Tom had managed to finish his essay and upload it for his professor to grade. He showered, a bit regretfully, and had been lying on his bed flipping through his study cards when Chris let himself in again a few hours later to sleep.

They ate their burgers first, catching each other staring, eyes darting away in a hurry.

Now the movie was almost over and his hand felt hot in Chris's grip, fingers thicker than his own, calloused and long. When the lights came on, Tom pulled his hand away and followed Chris out through the stream of people.

"Did you like it?" Chris asked, that smile of his wide and making Tom's heart flutter.

Tom shrugged. "Not really. Action was good, I guess."

"Yeah," Chris sighed, as if Tom confirmed something he'd been thinking. "First one was better. The best."

"I might have seen it, actually. Bet you liked that whole under the hood scene with Megan Fox, right?" He meant it as a ribbing, but Chris looked down, a small frowned puckering his brows.

They were exiting through the side door to head out to the parking lot, Tom feeling like maybe he had hurt Chris's feelings somehow, when he felt fingers reaching for his own, knuckles just barely brushing.

"Tom! Hey, man!"

Chris snatched his hand away as they both turned to look toward the new voice.

Chris Evans, the boy he sat next to in biochemistry, was making his way toward them.

Tall and long-legged with light brown hair cropped in loose waves, Evans was all smiles, lips so red and full. Tom noticed them every time.

"Hey, bro!" Evans said happily, extending an arm and dragging Tom into a hard side hug. He was the type that hugged easily and often. "How's it going?"

Tom, excruciatingly aware of how still Chris had become next to him, cleared his throat and shrugged.

"I'm okay. About to head back home, get some more studying in.”

Evans clutched his chest, completely sympathetic. "Oh, dude. I know! I'm totally wrecked about the exam tomorrow. Not to mention the project due in two weeks. Hey!" he said, eyes widening. "We should work on that together!"

Tom, slightly red faced, was about to reply when Evans turned to Chris, as if he'd only seen him that moment. He stuck his hand out. "Hey, man. Name’s Chris, how are ya?"

With something of a scowl dragging his blond brows down, Chris shook the offered hand. "Name’s Chris. Good."

Their grip was hard, veins bulging, and Tom gulped silently.

Evans' face lit up, his blue eyes catching the flashing light of the neon sign outside. "No way! Awesome. Basketball player, right?” Chris nodded. “Sweet game over the weekend. I play baseball. Right fielder." He turned back to Tom. "Listen, I gotta run, but text me about that project. We can work together, no joke. See you in the AM!"

As he dashed out the door, Tom and Chris stood awkwardly together, the space of two feet feeling like a hundred. Chris moved first. He opened the door and waited for Tom to pass through it.

“Who was that?”

Tom tucked his hands into his jeans. “Just a guy from my class.”

They walked together a bit and then Chris elbowed him playfully. “A baseball player? Really?”

Tom elbowed him back. “Shut up.” He blushed and looked down. “It’s not like that.”

Chris chuckled and threw an arm around Tom’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “I’m just saying. I mean, I’m only thinking of you. Everyone knows baseball players have small wieners.”

Stunned, Tom turned to him. Chris was giving him the side-eye, the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah? Why is it that their junk always looks bigger in those uniforms than the basketball players does?"

Chris turned, surprised, and Tom burst out a fast, nervous laugh. But then Chris grabbed his elbow and hauled him into the darkened shade of the cinema building. Pressed flat, Tom's pulse jumped, erratic in his throat.

"You think I’m small, Tom? Huh?" He ground his pelvis against his, and Tom gasped, clutching two handfuls of his shirt. "Do I need to remind you, baby? How it feels?"

Tom whined and tilted his hips.

"Am I small?"

Tom shook his head. "No. God, no."

Chris smirked and nibbled on his ear, knowing full well how it made Tom into mush.

"Good. But I'll still show you later." And then he bit at Tom's ear, quick and hard but not painful. Shocked, Tom froze.

“Chris!” He made to shove at him, but Chris dodged away, laughing. He took off down the street, his legs looking impossibly long, the muscles jumping. Smiling, Tom took off after him, both breathing hard. Chris’s whoops echoed into the black sky. There were only just enough stars to see him up ahead, blond hair bright even in the darkness, and Tom pushed his legs harder, wanting more than anything to keep up.

And he did, just under the street lamp at the intersection that led into campus. Chris grinned at him and threw an arm over his shoulders and they waited there for the light to turn green.

That night, Chris vanished into the communal bathrooms and Tom collapsed back on his bed, eyes blurry, exhausted. He wouldn't be able to study anymore. He needed to sleep. But just after two in the morning, he felt the bed dip beside him and then there was Chris, nose in his hair, wide hand spreading over his spine.

Tom, not entirely conscious, turned and slipped into his arms, sighing and hugging Chris around his waist. They slept.

**

Tom woke the next morning to find Chris still in bed with him. Tom was sprawled on his back, Chris lying half over him. If they moved another inch to the right, they would topple off his small twin bed. Their feet, hanging over the end, were twined.

Tom got up as quietly as he could, brushing back Chris's hair when he moaned and shifted, still asleep. He showered quickly and then grabbed his backpack, locking the door behind him.

Two hours later, with a splitting headache, Tom packed away his things, wondering vaguely if he had just failed. There was nothing he could do about it now but wait to receive his grade the following week. As he hurried down the front stops of the building, he ran into Evans.

“Dude, fuck man. That was brutal.”

Tom laughed, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have to drop out now and be jobless.”

Evans tapped his arm with the binder he was holding. “No way. You’re a full on brainiac. If anyone passed, it’s you.”

Tom ducked his head, fiddling with his bag’s strap.

“I need to go log some hours in at the field,” Evans said, searching in his pocket. “But seriously, together we can crank out the project in no time. We’ll get together about it, cool?”

“Oh, o-okay,” Tom said, waving as Evans jumped down the last few steps and disappeared around the corner.

His phone vibrated a minute later and he checked it. It was Evans.

_Seriously! It's totally cool to text me k_

Tom laughed and hovered over the keystrokes. What should he say? What did this mean? He'd seen Evans around campus with some tall girl, her long brown hair usually braided with bright ribbons. Judging by her dirt-striped uniform, Tom would guess that she played softball.

He shouldn't think on it. He wasn't interested in Evans that way anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous, arms and legs filled out with strong muscle, those full lips, and that laugh, god. He laughed so freely, bending back, hand on his chest. Tom noticed he did that, grabbed his own chest when he laughed. It was endearing, if anything.

Besides, this might not even be anything like that, Tom reminded himself, feeling stupid. And anyway, he had a boy back in his bed that he really liked, and everything suddenly came into focus for him.

_Ok will do!_

He wasn't sure about the exclamation point. If he left it out Evans might think he was unhappy about texting. Or if anything took himself too seriously, and that just wasn't true.

"Whatever," he muttered, sending the message and putting his phone away.

He walked over to his dormitory, already calculating the number of points he needed to get on the exam to maintain his average, and decided that he probably did alright and was worrying over nothing.

When he walked into his room, Chris was lying on the floor, ear buds in place, tossing a basketball into the air. He startled when he saw Tom and missed the ball as it spun downward. It landed right on his face and rolled away with a high bounce.

"Shit!" Tom gasped, dropping to his knees as Chris groaned and cupped his face with both hands. Rock music poured from the tiny earphones, and Tom realized he must not have heard him unlock the door. He yanked them off and tossed them to the side, helping Chris sit up. “Are you okay?”

Chris was rubbing at his nose, which was red, but not bleeding, thankfully.

“Ah dinntsee you,” he groaned through his hands, voice muffled. His eyes watered, and Tom inched closer.

“Let me see, hold still.”

Chris dropped his hands and held his chin up, watching as Tom felt around his face, his lashes long and blond in the sunlight. He flinched when he touched the bridge of his nose, and Tom snatched his hands back.

“I think you’ll live.”

Chris sniffed. “How was your test?”

Tom cut his eyes to him. “Fine. I think I did okay. I didn’t think you’d remembered.” His phone buzzed and he rooted around for it in his pocket.

“Why wouldn’t I remember? Who is it?” Chris asked, trying to peer over the top of the phone. Tom edged away.

“It’s no one.”

“There’s only one person I know who would use ‘dude’ that many times.”

Tom scowled. “Shut up.” He replied to Evans that they could meet up that weekend to plan their project, and then put his phone away. “He said he would be at the field right now.”

Chris tsked and shook his head in a knowing way. “Says one thing. Does another. Untrustworthy.”

Tom chuckled. “Oh, stop.”

He flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes. A nap was just what he needed. But then the bed dipped beside him and he cracked an eye open. Chris lay beside him, nose red.

“What did he text you about?”

A wave of drowsiness hit him and Tom rolled over. “Nothing. Our project.”

"Still gonna work together?"

Tom yawned. "Probably. Yeah."

A hand slid over his waist, feeling hot through his shirt. Chris palmed his flat belly, nose sliding along the nape of his neck. Tom tried to still the shiver that wracked through him, but he failed, and Chris made a little noise in his throat, pressing harder against him, mouthing at his skin.

"I didn't know he had your number," he said softly, wide hand inching lower.

Tom arched, head falling back on Chris's shoulder. Lips started sucking at his ear.

"We...we exchanged numbers just this...this morning." He gasped, clutching at Chris’s thigh.

"Hmm. For the project?"

A flare of annoyance sprang through the fog in Tom’s mind. His eyes focused suddenly and he angled his head back. "Are you jealous or something?"

Chris's eyes darted between his own. The heat between them seemed to rise suddenly, and Tom frowned. But them Chris was yanking Tom under him, lips crashing hard, his glasses in danger of being crushed.

They moaned, Tom opening his legs, Chris settling between.

“Let me just…” Tom gasped, reaching to take off his glasses.

“No, don’t,” Chris whispered, taking Tom’s wrists gently. “Don’t. I like when you wear them.”

Tom smiled shyly, face blooming with color. Chris’s eyes softened and he pressed their lips together for a long moment, gently.

“You’re so beauti—.”

“Hey, Hems!”

The voice cut through the locked door of Tom’s dorm, and they both froze.

Another voice shouted in the hall. “Where the fuck are you, man?”

A low chatter buzzed, like a few of Chris’s friends were outside talking amongst themselves.

“Hems!”

Chris jumped off Tom like he’d been zapped, falling off the bed and to the floor. Tom leaned up on his elbows, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Scrambling, Chris hurried to lace up his sneakers. “I, uh. Gotta go.” His jaw was tight, like he was upset about something.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked quietly, too alarmed to focus on his hard on. The voices became faint, as if the guys had moved down the far stairwell.

“Fine,” Chris muttered. He grabbed his backpack and went to the door. “I’ll be back.”

He went without another word, and Tom was left on the crumpled bed, heart pounding.

Pulling down his shirt, he lay back again, curling around the pillow Chris used, smelling him there. Hearing his friends had upset Chris somehow, and Tom had the sickening feeling that he was at fault in some way. Still, he removed his glasses and folded them on the floor. Yawning, he let sleep finally take him, too exhausted to think much about it.

**

Chris didn’t return that night, and Tom tossed and turned, his twin bed feeling ridiculously big. In the morning, he rose and blinked blearily around his room, at the desk by the window, cluttered with textbooks and his laptop, pencils and highlighters, a chipped coffee mug with a sticky film of old tea coating the bottom. Rolled against the far corner was Chris’s basketball, forgotten there after his nose incident the previous afternoon. And the more Tom looked around, the more he saw traces of Chris’s presence. Apart from the ball, he spotted the edge of one of his practice jerseys, the light blue standing out brightly against Tom’s more somber-colored wardrobe. A ragged pair of Chris’s tennis shoes were tucked under the bed frame; a couple of hair ties rested on top of his bureau, next to Tom’s loose change and sticks of gum; his sea foam green pillow beside Tom’s sun-yellow one.

Where had Chris slept last night? It was true that he didn’t spend every single night with Tom, but the way Chris had practically stormed out had left Tom feeling uneasy and confused.

His phone buzzed somewhere and he fumbled around in the blankets, finally finding it under his pillow. It was Evans. He squinted at the message.

<Bro! Is this too early? Wanna meet up?>

Tom smiled and rubbed his eyes. Fetching his glasses, he sat back against the wall and replied.

<Hi. No I just woke up. Sure we can meet.>

<Sweet dude. I’m going for a quick jog but then meet up at Shae’s at noon?>

Shae’s was a café on campus that had dim lighting and deep corners where students liked to cram in study sessions and nap between classes.

<I’ll see you at 12 ☺>

After throwing a quick glance up and down the hallway, Tom hurried into the showers. Chris’s room down the hall was closed. Most students were sleeping in that Saturday morning, so the bathrooms were empty except for one boy who slipped out as soon as Tom slipped in.

Dressed and feeling refreshed, Tom slung his backpack on his shoulder and locked his door behind him. Laughter down the hall drew his gaze, and he froze when he saw Chris and some of his teammates outside their dorm room. They piled through the door, but not before Chris’s eyes caught Tom’s, and they stared at each other across the heavy distance.

Unable to stand that gaze for long, Tom ducked his head and turned around, fleeing down the stairs to the main floor.

**

A week passed. He and Evans formulated how they would complete the project, including divvying up sections of their paper. Usually one to cringe at working with a partner on school assignments, Tom surprised himself by not minding working with Evans. Focused and glowing with a lazy confidence, Evans was an astute partner who took diligent notes and didn’t lag with sending drafts between the two of them. They compared annotations and cross-referenced their research, and Tom was pleased to discover that their project was nearly done by the end of the next week. Plus, Evans had a contagious sense of humor, a bit dry and sarcastic, always grabbing his chest with that laugh of his. Tom liked spending time with him. They tended to meet up later in the evenings after Tom was done with his science club and Evans with practice. At the library or café, they hunkered down over their books, giving Tom the opportunity to lose himself in school work rather than think about Chris.

Chris still hadn’t come to him, and Tom was beginning to worry. He thought about texting him once or twice, but always stopped himself, doubting every word he thought of to say. Maybe he would just talk to him in person. But either Chris was avoiding him or they always missed each other in the hallway. Tom wasn’t exactly sure what had scared him off. Everything seemed to have been fine up until that day his teammates were yelling for him outside his door. Tom even had the blooming belief that he and Chris might soon become a real couple, and not just two people who fucked at night. It didn’t make him feel any better then, sitting cross legged in a booth across from Evans, when Tom came to the horrifying realization that Chris had to have only been using him for sex. That there wasn’t anything there, no emotion behind the hard kisses and the tight hugs. He wouldn’t have stayed away for so long otherwise…right?

“Hey, you okay?”

Tom blinked at the shout and looked up. Evans was flicking his pencil back and forth between his fingers, worried eyes on him. Tom nodded and smiled.

“I’m fine,” he yelled. The noise level in the café had risen steadily as they sky grew darker outside. Evans looked around at the other people, a small bemused smile on his face. Tom noticed a long scrape on his forearm, scabbed over and red. When Tom had asked him about it, Evans brushed it off with a shrug, completely unconcerned, saying, “Meh, it’s nothing. Got the guy out at home, though.”

“It’s kind of loud in here,” Tom said suddenly. “We should head to my dorm. Finish up there.”

Evans shrugged easily. “Cool.”

They packed up their stuff and left the café, Tom leading the way down the street. Evans fell into an animated story about what happened in practice, and Tom laughed with him, imagining the scuffle at home plate. People were milling about on the steps outside his building. On the stairwell, a crowd of students pushed past them, flattening them against the wall.

“Dude, the fuck, man. Excuse yourselves much,” Evans called down, rolling his eyes at Tom. He smiled.

“They always get like this Saturday nights,” Tom said, fishing out his keys.

They stepped from the landing onto his floor. Down the hall, Chris’s dorm room door was open, music and voice spilling out from inside. At this angle, he wasn’t able to see in. He didn’t know if Chris was there or not. The team had played a home game earlier that day, and they’d won, according to what Tom heard one girl say as he was walking along the green mall in the middle of campus. Surely, Chris was happy at that. He could already picture the grin on his face, his eyes squinting, the lines forming around his full mouth. Ignoring the flip flop in his stomach, Tom unlocked his door and pushed into his room.

They settled on the floor, spreading out their papers and books. Starting from the beginning, they marked things to be corrected, highlighted their sections to complete and finally collapsed onto their backs, staring at the ceiling.

“Fuck, my back hurts,” Evans moaned.

Tom giggled and nodded. Almost another two hours had passed and it was nearing midnight. Music still thumped from down the hall, and Tom felt himself nodding away to the beat. Evans was quiet beside him, and he thought that they very well might fall asleep on his hard floor.

But then the door flew open and Tom gasped, startled. Beside him, Evans cracked an eye open.

Chris stood at the door, one hand still on the knob. His eyes flicked from Tom to Evans and back again, before taking in the rest of the room; the scattered papers, the highlighters and open books.

“What’s up, man,” Evans said easily, closing his eyes again. His hands were folded on his chest, the look of pure relaxation. Tom swallowed and sat up. His throat caught, pulse pounding loudly.

“Chris…”

“I, um, I just came for my…ball,” Chris said, walking around them and picking up his basketball from the corner. Tom followed him with his eyes, forcing himself to stay on the floor. Chris wouldn’t look at him, and it was making Tom feel like the lowest life form on earth.

“Chris—,” he said again, but Chris sailed out the door with a quick, “See you guys later.”

Tom lay back down, swallowing back his embarrassment.

“What was that about, man?” Evans said, a smile in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Tom fronted, trying for nonchalant. “He leaves his stuff lying around. Forgets it’s here.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Tom’s eyes sprang open. “What? My what?”

Evans laughed, still lounging back. “Relax. It’s totally cool, man.”

Tom licked his lips, skin buzzing with something like panic. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Hmm. Kinda looks like you guys dig each other.”

“Hardly,” Tom muttered, wishing he could tell him about how Chris only uses him whenever he wants; how he hasn’t been back to Tom’s bed in over a week; how Chris’s continued distance was beginning to fill Tom with lead.

Evans rolled to his side and faced Tom, head braced in one hand. “Seriously. Wanna talk about it?”

Tom turned away, unsure.

“Look, man, it’s okay that you’re gay. Don’t let that stop you.”

Tom almost bristled. But he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “How do you know I’m gay?”

Evans’ eyebrows rose higher. “Well, are you?”

Tom sighed and crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Do you like girls? Or boys? Maybe you’re bi. I’m bi.”

Tom swiveled his head around. “You are?”

Evans smiled. “Sure!”

Tom frowned, wondering what it meant to like both girls and boys. He liked girls well enough, liked the flowery scents rising from their skin and hair, liked their small little laughs and the way they traveled in clusters, but he’d never felt that pull toward them like he did for boys, like he did for Chris.

He rolled and mimicked Evans’ posture. “But you have a girlfriend?”

“Yup. Tiffany. She’s a pitcher for the softball team.”

 _Tiffany_ , Tom thought. Figures.

He looked down, biting his lips. Evans leaned on both elbows and tried to catch his eye.

“Maybe you haven’t admitted anything to yourself yet. That’s alright, man. It’s hard to figure these things out. But as an outsider, seeing how you look at the guy, I can tell you really like him a lot.”

Tom stayed quiet, not wanting to admit anything. “You’ve had boyfriends, too?”

“Sure. Just one. I had two girlfriends in high school. _Separately_ ,” he said with a laugh. “And a boyfriend as a freshman here. He switched schools and we broke up. He was sweet.”

It made Tom feel better about himself seeing how accepting Evans was of his own sexuality. Tom hadn’t made any kind of declaration of how he felt about boys, but Evans’ confidence fed his own and he believed that when he was ready to come out, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“You’re worried he’s not into you?”

Tom felt his face flame. “Maybe. I mean, why would he be? He could have so many other people.”

Evans’ eyes bugged and he rasped a quick, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding, bro? You’re like, one of the cutest people on campus.”

Tom blushed harder. “Stop,” he said quietly, mortified.

“But don’t tell Tiff I said that. She’s the cutest thing on campus, and I adore her.”

Tom grinned. The girl was cute, definitely. With her long black hair, ribbons twisted into plaits, legs tanned and muscular from sports. And it was obvious Evans was crazy about her.

“Look, dude. I still haven’t figured the guy out, so it’s okay that you haven’t either. I just think that you know, if he hangs around you, leaves his stuff all over the place, maybe he likes you too.”

“As a friend, maybe.”

Evans tilted his head and gave him a look that said _yeah sure._ Tom laughed.

“I don’t know. He’s nice, and yeah, we do hang out sometimes.”

“Hang out, go to the movies, he takes over your dorm room…” Evans lay back, grabbing his own chest as he chuckled. “Give it a chance, man. He might be so into you too.”

The thing was that Tom was more than willing to give a relationship with Chris a chance. He couldn’t very well tell Evans about how they’d already been sleeping together, fucking and all that, because he was still a bit humiliated that Chris might have actually used him. And despite opening up to Evans about more than their schoolwork, Tom went to sleep that night feeling more confused than ever.

**

The following Friday morning, they turned in their project, both relieved and ecstatic that they were finally done. Evans high-fived him outside their professor’s office.

“Done! Dunzo, fucking amazing. I’m so glad we partnered up, man.” He tossed Tom a big smile full of teeth and then hauled him in for a hug, Tom’s breath rushing out of him. Evans clapped him on the back and Tom grunted, reminded of how strong Evans was.

“I’m so tired I want to sleep for five days,” Tom mumbled, voice muffled in Evans’ shoulder.

“No sleeping, bro!” Evans said, drawing back. He kept a tight grip on Tom’s shoulders. “Well, maybe you can nap for a bit, but tonight! You’re coming with me and Tiff to a party. Sleep up and we’ll stop by for you, cool?”

He left Tom with another slap on the shoulder, Tom sputtering a response. He stood out in the weak sunlight for a few minutes, feeling for the first time the small bite of cold in the wind. The trees lining the long walk between two of the buildings were beginning to fray at the edges with yellow and red leaves. Fall was here and it would turn freezing soon. Tom could feel it.

**

He did nap. Face pressed to Chris’s pillow—which he still hadn’t come back for—Tom slept a solid three hours, waking disoriented and groggy. For half a second, he thought the bundle pressed to his back was Chris, and he leaned into it, mumbling his name. But then he realized it was only his own neglected pillow and blanket wadded together and he blushed scarlet, ashamed to be so hopeful.

Evans texted him to be ready by ten o’clock. He showered quickly, ignoring the rumble in his stomach. Dressing in dark jeans and a faded blue X-Men shirt, Tom wiped the lenses of his glasses, glancing at himself into the mirror. He tried flattening his curls a bit, but gave up and put his glasses back on. As he was locking the door to his dorm, another opened down the hall. A burst of laughter rolled out and he turned in time to catch a set of wide shoulders pushing through the door, long blond hair caught up in a messy bun.

Chris. 

But then his heart fell at the sight of a pale arm gripped him around Chris’s waist. A girl at least two feet shorter than him clung to his side, hugged close by Chris. They were both looking into the main room, talking to someone inside, unaware of Tom down the hall. Before either could spot him, Tom spun on his heel and fled down the stairwell.

**

Tiffany was the biggest sweetheart and Tom couldn’t find it in himself to be even a little jealous of her that she’s snagged someone as great as Evans.

“Tom, if only I’d been born with hair like yours. I could conquer this world,” she laughed, slipping her arm through his. She said this with a flick of her own long brown hair, and Tom didn’t see what was so bad about it.

"Your hair is actually very beautiful,” he said honestly, and Evans slapped him on the shoulder from the other side.

“Wait ‘til you hear this one in a classroom. She gives the best presentations, and has one hell of a curveball.” He winked at her over Tom’s head and she smacked his arm playfully.

“Stop, Chris,” she said, blushing.

The party was off campus. They crossed Sixth Street and entered a residential neighborhood. Walking onto Norris Avenue, they could hear the pounding bass of distant music. Evans took Tiffany’s hand when they pushed through the front door. The interior of the house was packed with bodies, swaying to music and lounging against walls, on sofas, and on the stairs. It was dark, all the lights muted low. Tom closed the front door, and then reached for Tiffany’s offered hand. Linked together, the three of them pushed through the crowd, Evans at the lead. They found their way to the kitchen, where each grabbed a drink, Tom’s beer tasting wheaty with a twist of orange. He nursed at the drink for the first hour, following Evans and Tiffany as they made their way through the groups of people. They were very kind to him, one of them always having a grip on his arm or hand. He went with them diligently, glad to feel included and involved. There must have been a black light somewhere because Wolverine’s claws on his shirt glowed green. One guy jumped in from out of nowhere and hugged Tom, thumping his chest twice right over the Marvel logo and screaming “X-MEN SWEET” before bounding off into the crowd.

Tiffany laughed and took Tom’s hand again. She wasn’t drinking very much, Tom noticed, and he figured it was because she was keeping an eye on Evans, who laughed freely and spoke with nearly everyone they encountered. She would be their designated walker, it seemed. Eventually, another beer found its way into Tom’s hands and he felt the knot of tension in his stomach loosen. It was a random moment when he checked his watch and saw that it was half past midnight and he thought he might have been on his third beer. But Evans pulled him to a corner of the living room where a table had been set up with dozens of cups lined up in rows at each end.

“Grab a ball, man,” Evans said, taking one end of the table and directing Tom to the other. It seemed he had to make it into one of the little cups on the other side of the table, which Evans was then forced to drink, or else he had to take a drink from his beer for every time he missed one of Evans’ cup. Together he and Evans took turns, and Tom missed more than he made them. Before he knew it, he was chugging down his umpteenth cup of beer and both he and Evans were cackling at something he already forgot was so funny. They burst out laughing again, and Evans leaned over to grab Tom’s chest in his trademark move, Tiffany with an arm over each of their shoulders.

Suddenly Tom was spun around and he nearly toppled over.

“Hey!”

But strong hands righted him immediately. He looked up at Chris’s face and found it stormy with anger, brows low, jaw tight.

“Chris,” he said, proud of himself that he only slurred a little bit.

“What the hell, Tom?”

Tom blinked, unable to understand Chris’s anger compared with how great and happy he felt inside.

"Wha—Whad arr you talking about?”

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tiffany cut in, putting a hand between them. She cut a sharp glare at Chris, not having met him before.

“Chris!” Evans said, slumping over beside Tiffany, a heavy arm around her. “Dude, so glad you came. Who do you know here, man?”

Chris spared him the briefest glance. “Everyone,” he said. He turned back to Tom. “You weren’t there. I went to you tonight and you were gone.”

Something pushed through the puddle that was his brain, and Tom straightened. “I wasn’t there? Oh, maybe it’s because I’m here, with my friends. You know, those people who haven’t left me alone for two weeks without a single word from you.”

He realized how jumbled his sentence came out, turning the focus from his friends to Chris, but he didn’t care. He was suddenly very angry.

Chris narrowed his eyes and then turned to the other two. “Can you give us a minute?”

Tiffany touched Tom’s shoulder. “You okay, Tom?”

Tom swayed, Chris stepping closer to steady him. Tom took hold of his biceps, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll be right back.”

Chris angled him away, but not before Tom caught the hard look Tiffany gave Chris. She looked about ready to give him her two cents about him barging in and firing questions at Tom, and judging by the ropy muscles in her arms, she would probably have no problem making the argument physical. Evans was already dragged away to a new game of beer pong and then Tom lost sight of them. Chris steered him to a back hallway lined with closed doors. There were probably people making out somewhere inside, and he suddenly became aware of how hot Chris felt next to him. He stepped away an inch, but Chris tightened his grip on him.

He set Tom against a corner, dark and far away enough from the main part of the house that they could speak privately. Tom felt his head dip and he clutched at Chris.

“How did you find me?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s only the biggest party going on tonight. Plus, I knew you were probably with Chris, so…” He shrugged and looked down.

Tom scoffed and Chris leaned closer. “I expected you to be there. That’s all.”

Tom bristled. “Oh, I wasn’t there when you expected me to be? Not there to keep you warm? For you to fuck when it conveniences you? Too fucking bad, Chris.”

“You’re drunk,” Chris said, cupping his shoulders gently. Tom pushed at him weakly.

“I am not. I’m just out having fun, alright? We turned our project in, working on it day and night for two weeks. My bed cold without you. I hardly slept, Chris. Having me worried because I thought I’d done something wrong—.” His voice caught and Chris’s eyes softened, shaking his head sadly.

“You didn’t. You did nothing wrong. It was me, okay—.”

Tom brushed him off, trying to walk around him. “Whatever. My friends aren’t ashamed to be seen with me. So just fuck off, Chris.” He hiccupped and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

Chris moved with him, cradling his jaw softly. “Baby,” he whispered, and Tom stopped in his tracks.

He felt the tears rise faster than he could think to control them. They spilled down his cheeks and Chris’s eyes widened in alarm, stepping closer, concern in his voice.

“No, baby. No, don’t cry.”

"I missed you, Chris,” Tom sobbed, and Chris hung his head, heat flushing his face. “For two weeks, I lay there wondering what the fuck I did. Why you didn’t want to be seen with me. And that’s what it was, right? Your friends almost caught us, and you couldn’t stomach it, them knowing you were fucking me.”

"Tom, that’s not—.”

“And they stopped smelling like you. The sheets. And your stupid pillow. You don’t know how many times I woke up thinking you were there and you weren’t.”

They fumbled for a moment, arms locking around each other, feet stumbling until they fell against the wall breathing hard, Tom’s hands in Chris’s hair. Their lips hovered, eyes blinking in the dim corner.

“I missed you, too,” Chris breathed, and Tom felt his knees weaken. “Every damn night I wanted to go to you. But I couldn’t. It was all me and my bullshit excuses to myself. But we can talk about that tomorrow, baby. You’re drunk and it’s freezing outside. Let me take you home.”

“Who was she?” Tom cut in, eyes darting between them. “That girl in your dorm. You ignore me and then let some other girl cleave to you like a—.”

“Her name’s Sam, and she’s no one. A groupie. Every team has a few. I’ve never slept with her. She just hangs around us.”

Tom studied him, feeling a fish bowl effect tilt his vision. “You promise?” His voice came out small.

Chris sagged against him. “I promise. I told you weeks ago that I don’t like sleeping around. I’ve always thought of you as mine, and me yours. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Tom whimpered when they kissed, hard and rough in the dark and pulsing corner of the house party, Chris’s bulk pressing him to the wall. They clawed at each other, hands roaming under shirts, tugging on hips.

“Wait,” Chris gasped, drawing back. “Baby, wait, we can’t here.”

Tom’s heart fell. “ _Again?_ I can’t fucking believe—.”

“We can’t _anywhere,_ Tom. You’re drunk and I want you home now. Safe and warm in your bed.”

Tom fit their cheeks together, stubble rasping. “You’ll stay with me?”

“I wouldn’t leave for anything. I promise.” He chuckled as Tom nuzzled at his neck, clinging to him, trembling. “You’re like a puppy when drunk. It’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” Tom mumbled. He groaned and touched his stomach. “My belly hurts.”

Chris kissed him again fast, and then guided him back down the hall, arm around his waist to support him. Tom froze at the mouth of it. “Wait, I have to tell Evans. And Tiffany.”

Chris nodded and moved them into the living room. Evans was being congratulated with loud pats on the back and cheers from the onlookers. It seemed he’d won another round of beer pong, even if he looked a bit unsteady on his feet.

“Tiffy,” Tom slurred, tapping her shoulder. “Tiffy, we’re going home now.”

She asked if he was sure, her eyes flashing to Chris beside him and then back to his face.  Tom nodded, biting back a yawn. Evans came over.

“Babe, I’m done,” he said, side hugging Tiffany. “No more.”

“Come on, man, don’t be a pussy,” someone shouted, and Evans laughed, shaking his head.

“No. No way. I’m dunzo.” He wagged a finger at the guy. “I know my limits, don’t be a jackass.”

“I’ll step in for him,” Tiffany said sharply, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Babe, it’s okay. You really don’t have to. Let’s chill outside.”

“No, it’s cool. I’ve been wanting to play.”

“Play with the big boys!” one of the guys said. “Don’t miss now.”

Tiffany sucked her teeth, smirking. She picked up a ping ball. “Please. I never miss when I aim at something.” She looked pointedly at Chris, who almost shrunk back.

Tom snickered, swaying. “She’s going to kick your ass if you hurt me.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

They left after promising Tiffany and Evans he would text them in the morning. They stumbled down the front steps, Tom’s teeth beginning to chatter almost immediately. He found this immensely funny, and tripped along beside Chris.

“You’re going to fall flat on your face,” Chris muttered, puffing along next to him. He glanced up and down the dark street. “Here.” He stopped and held Tom still for a moment, and then stepped in front of him so that his broad back faced Tom. “Hop on.”

Tom blinked, not quite understanding. “Hop on. Where.”

Chris looked over his shoulder at him. “My back. Just jump on. I’ll carry you.”

Tom almost swooned. He giggled and braced his hands on Chris’s shoulders and then breathed out three counts before he jumped. He landed squarely on Chris’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck. Chris anchored Tom’s legs under his elbows, teeter tottering for a moment. Tom whined, and buried his face in Chris’s hair.

“Please don’t drop me.”

“I won’t,” Chris panted and started down the pavement. After a few moments in silence, he said, “I really didn’t expect you to be drunk, babe. Honestly, I leave you alone for a minute and—.”

“Two weeks!” Tom shouted, and then shushed himself, apologizing loudly. Chris turned onto Sixth Street and approached the intersection, feet plopping loudly under their shared weight. Tom was shivering and trying to burrow under Chris’s skin. “You’re so warm,” he whispered.

“And you’re wearing a thin sheet, basically.”

Tom huffed. “I like this shirt. I look hot in it.” He snuggled down against Chris, sighing contentedly at his neck.

“You do look hot in it,” Chris whispered, pressing the button to cross the street.

“And I thought that if Chris didn’t want me, then someone somewhere surely does. Maybe he was at this party.”

Chris turned his head, trying to catch Tom’s eye. It was an impossible angle, and they only bumped noses. “Don’t say that. I do want you. You know how I feel about you.”

Tom grew silent as a loud beeping started to signal the change of light. Chris began crossing the street.

“Actually, Chris, I don’t know how you feel about me.”

He admitted it quietly, half not wanting Chris to hear him, and maybe he hadn’t because Chris didn’t respond, only hustled up the street to their building. The front steps were empty, as was the elevator and hallway on their floor. Tom was squirming, whining that he needed to piss. Chris labored diligently, carrying Tom to the bathroom, setting him gently on his feet, and then to his doorway just after. Digging out his own key ring, he unlocked the bolt and crossed inside, Tom following. They made quick work of their jeans and sneakers, shucking off shirts and leaving on only their boxers. Tom collapsed into bed, Chris turning out the light and sliding in next to him. A soft glow from the pizza store outside flooded over the empty bed, casting enough illumination for them to stare at each other, hands in their hair.

“Sleep, babe,” Chris whispered, caressing Tom’s brow with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you trust me?”

And Tom, sobbing once quietly, pressed his face to Chris’s throat to kiss the Adam’s apple there. “Yes, Chris. I trust you.” He fell into sleep quite easily, Chris staying up a while longer, stroking his hair.

The morning dawned bright and wet, a cold rain having falling sometime in the early hours. Tom’s room was icy, and they woke wrapped up together under his blanket.

“Goddamn, the heater’s probably out,” Chris whispered, arms tight around his back.

“The floor,” Tom rasped, feeling like his tongue grew ten sizes. “It’s going to be freezing.”

“Who cares,” Chris murmured. “We’re not getting up anyway.” He kissed his forehead and they slept again. Two hours later, they woke with bursting bladders. Chris tossed Tom some socks, and they skidded across the cold floor to the bathrooms, pissing quickly and drinking water before rushing back to Tom’s room. They lay under the blanket again, staring at the ceiling, at the giant poster of a nebula Tom had tacked there.

“Tell me,” Tom said, finding Chris’s hand between the warmth of their bodies.

Chris was silent for a long moment. When he started talking, his voice was a warm rumble in the still cold air. “I noticed you even before you gave me a copy of your room key. Trudging up the stairs with all your books, the adorable way your glasses would slide down your nose.” Tom sat up with a gasp. His glasses! Chris put a comforting hand on his chest. “Relax. I took them off for you last night. They’re on your desk.” Tom lay back again, wondering why he hadn’t noticed his poor vision when they made the trip to the bathroom. Maybe he was still hung over. Or still drunk.

“Anyway,” Chris continued. “Why do you think I ran away so fast after that time you found me asleep in the hall? I really liked you.”

It was true. Tom remembered how fast Chris had fled down the stairs, and he’d always wondered why. Chris sighed.

“Honestly, I would have been the happiest guy just falling asleep beside you. I love holding you when we sleep. Your soft little noises, your knee pushing between mine. I soak everything in.” Tom blushed and Chris smiled, kissing the apple of his cheek. “But you gave me more. You gave me so much more, Tom, when I asked for it. And it felt so good. When you responded to my touches, to my kisses. When we moved to other stuff. It was unspoken between us, what we did, and I’m so sorry, Tom. I should have told you sooner about how I felt. I shouldn’t have let my own stupidity stop me. You deserve better than that. I didn’t mean to slight you or make you feel less than the whole world I think of you.”          

Tom stared at him. Chris smiled, a little self-consciously. “I do, you know. Think the world of you.”

Tom licked his lips, willing his racing heart to calm down. “But what do you mean by your stupidity?”

Chris shrugged. “Look, I’m not exactly _out_. And well, I’ve just been a coward.”

Tom stroked his jaw, watching the bristles of his stubble bend under his thumb. “I’m not exactly out either, but why do we have to make any kind of special proclamation? We’re out to each other and that’s that. Being together wouldn’t be anyone’s business. We could just _be_ , you and me.”

Chris’s lashes hung low, his smile growing slowly. “I’d really like that, Tom.”

Tom grinned and grabbed Chris around the neck, dragging him in for a kiss. Chris rolled over him, thighs brushing, feet rubbing smoothly. They moaned, kissing deeper, harder. Tom had missed this, those full lips and rough hands. The weight of him, the strength, parting his legs, heaving over his hips, sucking at his neck. Tom trailed his hands down his back, the muscles bunching and rippling under his fingers.

“You’re beautiful,” Chris said, his breath whispering over Tom’s cheek. He nuzzled at him, both laughing quietly, clutching at each other.

“I missed you,” Tom said, pecking at his lips, small smacking sounds loud in the cold room.

“I missed you more. I’m an idiot. An idiot, babe. Please forgive me.”

“Stop. I forgive you. I forgive you, I do.”

They fumbled and tugged at their boxers, pushing them low, out of the way. Chris drew back and yanked them off Tom’s legs, ridding himself of his own. The Vaseline bottle was somewhere under the bed, and he reached blindly with one arm, keeping Tom tucked against him with the other, mouths greedy on each other. He finally found it and slicked himself up, spreading some over Tom’s hole, fingers pushing in. Tom gasped and watched with hooded eyes as Chris opened him up, moving his hips to aid him. When Chris fell over him again, the wide head of his cock nudged at Tom’s entrance and Tom smiled, breathing out a stuttered laugh.

“Yes, Chris, fuck yes. Come on, push in, do it.”

Chris groaned and started sliding inside, the tight stretch testament to how long it had been for them both. Moving on his side, Chris lay next to Tom, faces an inch apart. Tom threw his leg over Chris’s hips and Chris started moving, hooking a hand under his slim thigh. They swallowed the tiny moans given, smiles wide and eager. It was a quick and desperate spiral, spinning toward their explosive finish. Tom, teeth gritted, stifled his scream in Chris’s neck, pulsing heavy and thick, his cum drizzling down their bellies. Watching Tom climax, Chris licked his lips and set a hard pace, murmuring to him how lovely he was, how perfect. On a hard thrust, he choked out a groan, coming inside him. They arched together, still connected, Tom feeling every pulse coat him from within. Kissing lazily, they grinned and cuddled, Chris careful with slipping out of him. Wriggling, Tom whined.

“I want to shower now. I feel sticky.”

Chris chuckled. “Let’s shower then.”

Tom perked up. “Together?”

“Sure. Of course. The guys on the team shower together all the time.”

“Mmm. The image is lovely in my head.”

Chris growled playfully and tickled his ribs. “Just don’t drop the soap.”

Tom giggled. “I’m going to drop all the soap.”

“You little—,” Chris laughed, and dragged Tom under the blankets again.

**

Nearly a month later, Tom was stamping snow from his shoes on the steps outside his building. A twinge of pain seeped up his spine, and he smiled, remembering the hard grip Chris had on him that morning as he pounded into him from behind. Backpack heavy on his shoulders, he hitched the books in his arms higher, looking down to see if he’d trailed any sludge into the warm lobby.  

“Tom!”

He looked up to see the Resident Assistant coming out from behind her counter.

“Hey, Tina,” he said, pulling off his beanie. Flakes of snow fell to the floor.

“I wanted to ask you about the extra bed in your room,” she said, stopping before him. Tom froze, heart falling. Was someone else going to move in with him and ruin the little bubble of privacy he and Chris shared?

“Someone came to me asking if you might consider taking him in. Says his roommate is too rowdy. Too noisy. Always has people over, I guess. He noticed you room by yourself. You’re far enough down the hall that it’ll be significantly quieter, he told me. Are you up for accepting someone to bunk with?”

Tom’s throat closed up and he swallowed quickly. “Oh. Well, I don’ know. Who’s asking?”

The girl glanced at her clipboard. “Guy by the name of Chris H. Basketball player, I think. He’s currently down the hall from you.”

“Oh,” Tom said, hugging his books to his chest. He tried to sound as nonchalant as he could. “Yeah I know him, actually. He’s pretty cool. I guess that’d be okay.”

She smiled and made a note on her clipboard. “Sweet. I’ll let him know today. He’ll probably move his stuff in soon.”

Too bad most of it’s already in my room, Tom thought giddily, smiling with her.

“Yeah, that’s no problem. I mean, I’ll need to move all my crap from the extra bed. I’ve kinda been using it as another desk.”

She laughed and thanked him before moving back to her desk.

Tom made his way up the stairs, heart fluttering in his chest. His sneaky little boyfriend finally found a way to make their living arrangements permanent.

**

Chris was away again, the team on a four-day road trip at the northern university. Tom had thrown himself into his schoolwork, meeting up with Evans for late evening coffees, and joining him at Tiffany’s games, where they sat on the frozen bleachers, screaming for her and clapping with mittened hands. Now Tom sat in his room, folded up on the bed with a book in his lap. He was restless, though, missing Chris, needing him. The team would be returning today, were actually probably on their way home already. Without Chris’s dedicated fondling, Tom felt on edge, a tightness in his groin he couldn’t get to go away. The clock on his desk told him it was just after four o’clock. Chris would be home soon.

He remembered suddenly the away trip Chris had returned from weeks before, when he’d startled Tom at his desk, midway through a thesis paper. That trip had been four days too, and Chris had come to him desperate to blow his load. No doubt, he would be just as eager today.

Smiling, Tom stashed his book and removed his clothes, bringing out the brand new bottle of lube he’d bought just the day before. Slicking up his fingers, he reached down and played with his hole, pressing in gently. Touching his nipples, smoothing his free hand over his neck and chest, Tom felt his blood rise, body heating up steadily. He thought of Chris, of that sunshine scent of his, the long hair that grazed Tom’s face at night. It wasn’t until he was stuffing himself with four fingers that he reached for his phone, flicking open the camera app. Hitting the record button, he smiled into the lens, letting the blush in his check and throat show.  

“Chris,” he panted, still fingering himself. He held the phone far enough away to record just how low and deep his fingers were. Against his abdomen, his cock was an angry curve of red. “Baby, are you almost home…because I—I need you. _Please._ ”

He stopped recording and attached the short video to a text message to Chris. He sent it, setting the phone aside and sighing, twisting his wrist. Minutes passed, a bead of sweat slipping down his temple. He moaned and arched his back, his arm beginning to tire and cramp. But then voices floated up from somewhere outside his door, voices he had begun to recognize as the men’s basketball team. He sat up on his elbows, hope flaring in his chest. Was the team back already, and so soon? Wiggling low on the bed he pawed at himself, heart racing. He cocked his ear as quick footsteps sounded loudly in the stairwell heading straight for his door. He smiled and waited for Chris, who seemed to have received his video without a problem at all. He would burst in any moment to drape himself over Tom, just what they both needed after their long separation. Across the room, the extra bed was made up with sheets and a mussed blanket, but only for appearances’ sake. Because Chris never slept there. He slept in Tom’s small bed, as they always had, pillows laced with their mixed scents, familiar and lulling them night after night into a shared and gentle sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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